


Hands Folded

by qwanderer



Series: Firefly Character Studies [2]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen, poetry-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwanderer/pseuds/qwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know something about the power of belief. Belief can do many things. But there are some things it can’t do – erase the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands Folded

Hands are to the body as acts are to the soul. They can be put to use for whatever purpose you choose in this life. Whatever you intend will show in them; every wrinkle, every whorl is yours. They can be covered up, but never entirely erased.

I know something about the power of belief. Belief can do many things. But there are some things it can't do – erase the truth. Take the blood from your hands. Change what you have done.

Cut yourself and you bleed. That is an easy lesson to learn. A child knows that. Wash the wound clean and bandage it and it will heal. The harder lesson is cut another person and you will bleed. You will bleed until they are healed.

When you kill it is irreversible. Blood flows because the damage can't be undone. The wound these hands created will never heal. These hands will be red forever.

I open my eyes. My hands flow with oceans of blood.

_Oh, God, what have I done!_

For a while every morning when I opened my eyes it was like this. Every night I wished I would sleep and never wake up. Forget what I had learned. Close my eyes and never have to open them, have to see these hands. A wish for nonexistence…for death.

" _A prayer for the dead"… "I hope it's not for me."_ Inside I laughed.

Stop. Stop thinking of it. Don't wallow in the pain. You have a future here, now.

You wash and wash and still the blood comes. So what do you do?

There's not much of a trick. You just fold your hands and ask forgiveness and keep washing.

I have to keep reminding myself to keep trying.

Folded hands. They remind me of clean white folded towels. Mine are old and worn, with dark and ancient stains that cannot be gotten out. Still, they are clean enough now to be useful, I hope.

I fold my hands and I pray that they may do some use with the time I have left. God, bless Serenity. Bless these people who do not ask too often for my story; I cannot tell it yet. Perhaps I never will be able to.

The truth is I fold my hands to cover up the stain.

To hide the blood.

From myself.


End file.
